


Night Visions

by Sam_Kabaam



Category: The 100
Genre: Angst galore, Blindness, Blood, Bomb, Crying, F/M, Fear, Kabby af, Pain, Sadness, Surgery, bruised rib, flash blindness, lots of blood, metal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 00:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5985504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Kabaam/pseuds/Sam_Kabaam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus becomes blind, and Abby fears for the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Visions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tiph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiph/gifts).



> To my Valentine, who always makes me happy and who has great taste in fan fiction, ships, and men *cough cough* angst, Kabby, Marcus, Ian *cough*

Night Visions 

'Where am I?' Marcus's thoughts echoed through his skull, causing his head to pulse and throb even harder; pain spiking through his body.   
Panic began to consume him. His vision became blurred, not even the body that lay limp in front of him could be seen through his eyes. The world began to slow, as if all life had been put on hold. He tried moving his hand, hoping to end the constant ringing that pierced his ears, only to find he was unable to move it. It only frustrated him even further. With all the strength he could muster, he tried to call for help from the one person he was sure had been standing by his side only moments before.   
"B-Bellamy," he stumbled, his voice catching in his throat. With no answer, he tried calling out again, only to find his words turning to a cough. He could feel himself lean forward, his palms and knees pushing into the wet ground. His throat burned as more and more blood splattered across his hands and floor, the warmth bringing much needed heat to his cold skin.   
He knew by the taste that caressed his tongue with iron that the bleeding had slowed, and as his coughing faded, he collapsed onto his side, too weak to do anything else. 

It was typical for his mind to race in a dangerous situation, much like the one he was in now. However, as he lay still, his breathing jagged, blood seeping its way from his mouth, he thought of nothing. He felt alone, cold, forgotten. Was this the touch of death that gripped his neck? Was this how it would end?   
One second fine, the next, bang. Turns out that was how it worked.   
He jumped as a sharp pain pierced his left hip, his hand immediately moving to add pressure. He felt his fingers shift across a feeling that could only be described as metal puncturing his flesh, but from where? Again, a sharp pain sent waves of agony through his body, this time coming from his shoulder. Gripping the sore, he knew immediately more metal was piercing his skin, blood dripping through his fingers and down his arm.   
He carefully positioned himself so that his back leaned against the unknown object behind him.   
His throat burned; body ached, he refused to think of what may be coming next. 

As time went on, and the ringing of his ears slowly faded into the sounds of nature, leaves whispering and wind howling, the pain went with it. He tried to ignore the stinging sensations, the taste of blood in the back of his mouth, the unknown cause of his sudden blindness. It seemed like hours he sat there; alone, straining his ears to seek the smallest of noises. Nothing. Not even a whisper. 

Then, like an echo spiraling through the walls of a cave, growing louder and louder before slowly fading to silence, footsteps inched nearer and nearer. They were heavy and fast, pounding against the ground as sticks and twigs snapped under its boots. They came so close, Marcus could hear their breathing, knowing each precise moment their chest rose and fell. He prepared himself for the worst. Prepared for the pain of an arrow striking his chest, a knife slowly being drawn across his neck, or a slash across the stomach. Whatever they chose, he wouldn't be surprised if it was slow, and agonizing. His muscles tensed, he could feel his eyelids close over his blinded pupils. 

He jumped when a strong hand gripped his shoulder, the other grasping the part in his coat. He was confused at first. No knife? No arrow? That was until he could hear the voice of his approacher.   
"Kane, get up, come on," Bellamy shouted, tugging him as hard as he could to stand.   
Marcus could feel his heart change beats, from as fast as war drums to as slow as the steady flow of the river. Relief flooded through him, but he knew good and well that it didn't mean he was safe. 

Bellamy continued to lift Marcus from the ground, but stopped as he noticed his refusal.   
"We have to get out of here, before another bomb drops," he rushed, out of breath. Grabbing his bloodied cheeks he tried shaking him, mistaking his closed eyes for unconsciousness.   
"Come on, open your eyes"

"I can't see, everything is dark when I do," Marcus paused, "what happened?"

"You don't remember? A bomb dropped on you and your troop, Raven got a message on her radio. The Rover isn't far, we need to get out of here before another drops"

Marcus pondered for a few moments. A bomb? How? That kind of technology couldn't exist anywhere but Mount Weather, could it? He felt the hand around his shoulder tighten, reminding him that he was not alone.   
Nodding, he tried his best to stand,"help me up," he asked, tying to keep his bad leg off the ground, and torn shoulder straight. Bellamy was careful to keep off his sore and swollen flesh. Bruises had already began forming around his wounds and rib cage. However, he did not bend over in pain because of them, so he didn't ask.

"You're loosing a lot of blood," he commented, staring at his crimson soaked clothes, the thick liquid pouring through the gashes in his flesh, "I'll radio Raven and tell her to meet us here" 

"I'm fine, I'm sure I can make it," Marcus tried straining his eyes to see, yet nothing came to his vision. 

"'You're sure' isn't very convincing, they're close, but not close enough," Bellamy slowly let go on his arm, making sure he was stable enough to stand. For a few moments he wobbled slowly side to side as the hand helping him balance slowly withdrew. However, as the wind settled, so did his imbalance. Trying to keep as much weight off of his wounded leg as possible, he tried leaning into his right side, making his leg quickly tire.   
He didn't pay much attention to the conversation across radios, instead Marcus focused on the darkness that over encumbered him. He couldn't stand this dark void he was placed in much longer. It was one thing to loose sound of the birds in the early summer morning, or the quiet whispers of the one you love, eagerly pulling you to bed for the night, but to be oblivious to it all, to loose sight of the beauty in this new world was already settling into him. What was he to do with the nothing?

Marcus jumped as Bellamy's hand came down on his arm once more, his tight grip an assurance that he would not fall.   
"They couldn't find anyone else," Bellamy said, his tone pained, "I'm sure they're fine," he tried to assure him. 

Marcus couldn't help but let out a small laugh, "if we really were bombed, it's a miracle I am still breathing"  
The boy was silent, not entirely sure what else to say. He had noticed the kid beside their feet, just didn't think it would be the best conversation to start at their time of panic.   
He took a breath, preparing to apologize, but instead, it came out as only, "the Rover will be here any second, just stay awake, and stay standing" 

'Stay awake, and stay standing,' Marcus repeated in his mind. Two simple orders, five simple words, but it was enough to replay in his head over and over again, taking his thoughts from the pain that coursed through his body. It was as if the blood in his veins carried the sharp stings to every nerve in his skin, making his flesh tremble in fear and discomfort. He could have sworn he had heard the low hum of the jeep in the distance, but tried to deny his senses, making sure his hopes did not raise for nothing. He focused on his breathing, and the feeling of another person by his side. On anything besides the pain. 

"There they are," Bellamy commented, the camps Rover coming into view. It was then Marcus even realized that the low hum he had thought he had heard once before was real, that he wasn't going crazy. He still hadn't become used to the feeling of the machine tossing and jolting his body at every bump, but he had to admit, it was better than walking.   
A rush of wind ran through his hair as the vehicle came to a stop in front of them, the exhaust wheezing before falling to silence. Marcus could make out the sound of shoes pounding against the metal, the hatch in the side being shifted open. A stillness formed over him again, like the world was at a stand still. He felt his head lighten, and his knees become weak. Bellamy must have noticed his sudden overwhelmed behavior, and gripped him tighter, bringing his free hand to take his. He didn't expect him to lean over, blood spilling from his lips like the falls. He tried to stop the flow, tried to hold back his coughs and moans, but it did nothing. 

The ringing was back, louder than it had once been. His body ached and jolted again. It felt as if everything was toppling down upon him. He didn't feel the new hands that gripped his shoulders and pulled him forward, making sure his head bowed against the floor and he didn't choke on his own blood. The voices around him were muffled and distorted, as he brought a hand to his ear he tried to claw away the barrier between him and the world around him. He could feel his eyes begin to water, a mild warmth falling from his cheeks. When he finally did manage to stand, he felt he could throw up. Focusing on his surroundings he finally managed to decipher the voices around him, the stillness he had experienced slowly flowing away in the wind. 

"Get him to the Rover, we need to get out of here," Bellamy had said, a nudge lightly bushing his back to move. Marcus could feel two pairs of hands gripping him. Or 3? He tried to count the fingers chocking his skin, but soon lost count. He found his arms wrapped around the backs of their necks, his legs barely able to keep steady on the uneven ground as he stumbled towards the Rover, or what he had hoped to be. Before he knew it he was laid down on the cold metal floor, his fingers pressed against the ground, studying the vibrations of the engine. He took his thoughts from the pain and focused on his breathing, each breath sending a shock from his hip and shoulder throughout his whole body.   
The ones to enter the vehicle after him were careful where they stepped, finding a spot on the seats around him.   
He jumped as pressure was added to his wounds, making him shake and moan, his back arching slightly, before settling down slowly again.   
He wanted to scream at every bump, but held his tongue, holding back the pain as best he could. However, there were a few times where the pain was so great he couldn't help but wince and cough. Every once in awhile blood would find its way up his throat, but he forced it back, trying his best to keep it clean. He didn't know who was around him, who put pressure to his wounds and who's eyes burned holes in his head. All he knew is that he needed help, he needed Abby. 

Out of everything Marcus had experienced, the metal cutting his flesh, the blood seeping from his mouth, the growing pain in his lung after every breath he took. The blindness was the worst. Imagine a room with no people, or trees, or color. Just a room, dark and empty, yet filled with every sound in the world pounding against your ears like the drums of war. Think of nothing, and suddenly everything at once. That overwhelming feeling that comes at you like an ocean wave, that was what he felt, and he was begging for it to end. He was relieved to finally feel the Rover loose its power, feet pounding all around him. He knew the latch had been opened when the heat of the lowering sun had streamed across his face, bringing him warmth. 

"Get Abby," Bellamy commanded. Was he the one by his side? 

"What happened?" Sinclaire asked. Or was it Jackson? 

Who was grabbing his hand? Pulling him up and helping him from the rover? Were there two pairs of hands? Or three? He tried saying something, asking where he was, where Abby was, he even opened his mouth to speak, yet, nothing came. Not a word. 

"Be careful, Kane," a familiar voice said to him, he replayed the sound in his mind, studying the words a few times over. Lincoln. Definitely Lincoln. If he was on his right, who was at the left? He strained his ears to listen carefully, trying his hardest to pick up any unfamiliar voices. 

That was until his chest began to burn, his knees buckling beneath him. All his weight was glided off his feet in one swift motion, Lincoln and the other mystery man on his side were the only things keeping him from falling to the mud. He moaned in pain, a heavy feeling filling his chest, almost as if water was being pumped into his lungs. There was a muffled cry to his right. Words that his ears couldn't fix to hear. His feet began to drag across the ground as he was hauled towards medical. He struggled to catch up, his toes trying to pick himself up, with no use. 

"We need more help over here," Bellamy cried, calling for aid. 

Marcus jumped as more hands gripped his body, picking him up from the wet ground. He tried so hard to catch his breath, his chest heaving up and down as a small amount of blood arose from his mouth. He knew they entered medical when the wind seized to blow through his hair, the cold no longer stinging his skin. 

"Abby, we're back," Lincoln grunted, pulling on his friends weight. 

Her name instantly caught in his ears. He'd never been so relieved in all his years. He tried opening his eyes, tried to see her face, her eyes, her hair. But it did nothing, not a hint of light came filtering through his blind pupils.   
He felt his back pop as they laid him down on the cold metal operation table. It sent shivers down his spine just at the thought of how many needles there were most likely around him. 

"Marcus," Abby gasped in horror.   
The sound of his name coming from her lips was music to his ears. 

Abby didn't ask questions, she didn't care. Her mind was racing with worry and anger and grief. It took a split second for her to leap across the room and plant herself at his side.   
"Jackson, I need blood, O neg, now," she hollered, her hands reaching to Marcus's blood stained shirt, her fingers digging into his skin as she searched for broken bones. 

Marcus tensed at her touch, wincing as she tore into his bruised flesh. It was enough to handle, that was until she dug into his bottom ribs, a sharp pain exploding through him. His sudden scream made Abby jump. As he arched his back Abby's fingers went deeper into his bruised sore, more pain to flow through his nerves. She pulled back in a swift motion, Marcus's eyes squeezing tighter and tighter, his gasps for air explosion through him, until he settled down once more, not a sound being made from him mouth. 

Abby looked to Jackson, who's eyes were sweeping across his wounds.   
"He has a pulmonary contusion in his left rib," Abby's words startled him, "it's causing him major hemoptysis, we'll need to clear his airway, and remove the metal in his left hip and right shoulder. Prepare for surgery. Bellamy," he looked to her from the doorway, Lincoln by his side," I need another pair of hands. There are more bandages in the storage area, grab as many as you can"

She didn't wait for their answer, instead she reached for the sink in the left corner of the room, sterilizing her hands to avoid infection, before slipping on her latex gloves. They hadn't the time nor materials to suit up in sterilized scrubs and robes. It was a luxury they couldn't afford, and would be forced to make by without. 

Marcus's soft coos brought her to his side again. His veins were clamping down, and and color of his skin was fading. He couldn't help but squeeze the edges of the metal cot with all his strength.   
Abby shushed him softly,"sh, Marcus, it's ok, it's ok," her voice was soft and calm, smooth like the water when the wind seized to howl. Her voice quieted his painful coos and moans, his eye lids no longer squeezing tightly closed, but resting lightly above his pupils.   
"It's ok, Marcus, it's ok," she gently pushed his long, dark curl from his face back into his mane of hair, "everything is going to be ok, I promise"

She wanted to cry, to let out all the pain and worry that had bottled inside of her so quickly. It was only minutes ago she'd expected him to walk strongly into camp, greeting others as the gates closed behind of him. Only minutes ago she'd imagined him standing before her, not a scratch on his skin, his smile bringing warmth to her core. Now she was freezing, chilled to the bone like a blizzard was sweeping through her chest, making its cold front to her heart. It was an unexpected turn in events that she'd never imagined to occur. She didn't know what happened, and in all honesty, didn't care what happened. Marcus was dying, and he needed her. She couldn't fault now. 

Jacksons soft steps behind her gave her all the hints she needed to know that he was ready. Taking a small syringe from the table beside of her, she rummaged through the chilled cooler in search for the anesthesia.   
"We need to drain all the blood from him lung and throat. I don't know how much he can feel, but we can't put him down completely," Abby eyed the bottle, filling the tube with the needed amount of medicine. 

Taking a step back and around towards the dying man on the table, she was relieved he couldn't see a thing, or else she feared she'd need to tie him down.   
She was lucky. Stroking the area of skin the needle was to soon puncture, guilt spread through her. He had no idea. 

She tried to get the process over with as quick as she could. The pain in his body was to much to Handle, and he didn't notice when the needle entered his skin, and quickly pulled out.   
His groan let Abby know it was coming quickly under effect. 

Bellamy and Lincoln rushed in with more bandages, but kept their mouths shut as they quickly exited, not wanting to see the gruesome scene unfold. Abby pretended to ignore them, trying to focus on the task at hand. But it was so hard, oh, so hard. It was one thing to watch another suffer, watch as their life slowly slips away in front of them, their last moments on earth filled with pain and misery. But watching the one you love, the one you work day and night to protect, the one that always rests in the top of your mind, was another thing entirely. She couldn't stand the blood that dripped from his fingers, a puddle forming on the floor. Couldn't stand the whimpers and cries of pain that emerged from his throat as he lay helpless and cold. Couldn't stand the paleness of his skin that continued to grow lighter, as if his soul was being dragged from his flesh, digging it's nails into his skin just to stay for only a few more moments. That's when she realized she was just standing there, watching, waiting for something to happen. As if he would suddenly be ok. The blood would soak back into his skin and the metal would turn to ashes and he would open his eyes and stare into hers and everything would be ok. But reality was a bitch, and Abby knew that. 

"There's nothing we can do for the Pulmonary Contusion, it will heal eventually, as for he blood in his throat, make sure he doesn't choke on it. We'll start with the metal in his hip, and move up towards the shoulder," she declared to Jackson, who had stood waiting over his body, gloves already bloodied as he tried to hold the metal still as Marcus's breaths became more and more jagged. Nodding in agreement, he pressed down on the skin surrounding his sensitive area, dark bruised already forming around the wound. 

Marcus moaned quietly, his head shifting to the side at the added pressure. Abby took the scalpel from the table and positioned it around a piece of metal as to dig into his flesh, hoping to pull it free. 

"Ok, Jackson," she glanced up towards him before looking back down at Marcus's hip, "I'll remove this large piece of metal, and it should give us enough freedom to cut his pants and continue with the smaller pieces. I need you to push down, and I'll get under the piece and push it up, then you grab it" 

He licked his lips and nodded, prepared to get the operation done as soon as possible.   
Abby took one last deep breath, her eyes taking one last look at his face. She saw how the sweat beaded down his skin. How his eyes remained tightly closed and jaw clenched. His black hair, now damp with sweat and moisture, was curled and full of dirt. She had to do this, she had to be strong. 

Collecting her thoughts and bottling her feelings, she tried to cast them aside, and focus on the task at hand. Looking down again, she dug the knife easily into his skin, her eyes clenching closed at the sound of his painful cry.   
It was a half scream half gasp as he tried to call for her to stop, but no words could be said amongst his song of sorrow. He squeezed the edge of the table even harder as he grit his teeth, small tears rushing down the side of his face, watering his already wet hair. 

Abby worked to drown out his cries, the instrument digging deeper down into his skin. As she twisted up, the metal piece pushing free from his skin as Jackson tugged it from his hide, Marcus couldn't help but arch his back and grit his teeth again, trying to hold back the pain.   
This wasn't what he was expecting. He barely knew what was happening, or where he was. He knew Abby was there but who else? Was Jackson at her side? Was Lincoln and Bellamy still present So many question, and none of them answered. 

"A-Abby," he stumbled, a spurt of blood escaping his throat and splattering the clammy skin around his mouth, "Abby... Abby... Abby," he tried to find his words, but all he could say was her name, the precious sound being murmured quietly from his lips. His pleadings brought tears to her eyes, but she refused to let them spill over. Stepping to the side she lay her hand on his cheek, using her thumb to softly caress his skin. 

"It's ok, Marcus," she bent down, kissing the top of his head,"me and Jackson are going to get you fixed up, you hear me? Everything is going to be ok."  
She was about to promise him, but stopped herself. She couldn't promise anything she couldn't keep. Returning again to her work, she took the scalpel and tore at his black, blood soaked pants until the fabric was ripped in two, halfway down his thigh.   
Running her fingers lightly over the dark bruise that had manage to form all up his leg, she looked to Jackson, "ok, we need to remove all of the smaller pieces," her voice was hoarse. The sharp edges stuck all over his skin like shrapnel. Some as small as a shard of glass. She almost didn't know what to do, her doctor mode hadn't kicked in yet. 

Marcus waited for something to happen, anything to happen. All he could focus on was the pain. The pain in his lung after each breath he took. The pain in his thigh as it throbbed to the beat of his heart. The pain of his shoulder as it lay flat on the cold surgical table. The pain in his mind as all he could think of was Abby. Of the feel of her hands on his skin, the way her heavy breathing reached his ears amongst all the chaos. He tried remembering her face, her hair, her eyes. One last look. All he needed was one last look to trap her beauty in his mind before he became unable to look upon it forever. 

A small prick in his thigh made him jump. He could feel the shards of metal being pulled from his leg in one swift yank. He wondered how long it would take before he could finally rest. He didn't want to feel this pain anymore. And he most definitely didn't want to be left alone in a black world with nothing but his thoughts. No. He just wanted to sleep.   
'I'm so tired,' he thought to himself, over and over again, 'i just want it to stop'  
He didn't realize he was actually saying them until Abby's words interrupted his own murmurs and whispers. 

"It's ok," she assured him, he could tell she had moved to his side, "go to sleep, it's ok"

A small prick in his arm didn't go unnoticed. However, there was no time to ponder its source before he felt his head lighten, like he were floating through space. His hands released their firm grip on the table and his muscles finally were able to release their tension. Even his back flattened out and lay fully flat on the cot. It was a fresh feeling that lay over him like a blanket, his hearing flattening out once again as he drifted slowly off to a deep slumber. 

§₩§

"I thought you said we weren't going to fully put him to sleep?" Jackson asked, continuing to pick out all the little chrome pieces with his tweezers. 

Abby turned away, gripping the syringe so hard in her hand that she could hear the glass begin to crack. Closing her eyes she focused on the 'stars' that were in her vision. It reminded her of the darkness that had surrounded her so many times on the ark. All those memories of hatred towards one another. All the screaming and yelling and hitting. They never left her. She could still feel the sting on her hand when she struck his cheek so hard it sent him stumbling back a few feet. They had come to far. She wasn't about to let it end like this. With a heavy cry she threw the syringe across the room. Shattering against the tin wall, glass flew in every direction, landing with a crack on the floor.   
Jackson flinched at her sudden burst of anger, his mouth opening just a little in awe, but he said not a word.   
Abby's chest moved faster as her breathing quickened, before falling into a steady rhythm again. Her eyes fell onto his. 

"I... I'm sorry... I just can't... I can't see him like that anymore," she stumbled, her mind working faster than her mouth. 

Jackson dropped his work and went to her side, his hand on her shoulder, "he's going to be ok. You're the best doctor I've ever seen, even though you're the only doctor I've really ever seen," his light remark earned him a small smile from her lips, "he's going to be ok. We can do this. You can do this"

Abby took her hand atop of his, "thank you, Jackson"  
His words really were an encouragement. She had to do this. Not just for her sake but for Marcus's as well.   
After that the operation went by in a blur. They worked for hours, loosening every scrap that found its way into his body, digging through his flesh until he was cleaned. She tried to ignore the blood on her fingers. His blood.   
She hated it. She hated everything about it. The way it dripped down her arm or onto the floor. The way it seeped from his leg, his shoulder, his mouth. She feared it would soon pour from every pore in his body until it filled the room, drowning them all. When it came time to work on his shoulder, Abby was almost reluctant to rip his shirt, fearing for what was underneath. She wasn't surprised to find more blood, more metal, and a bruise that extended half way down his rib cage, on the back of his shoulder and even a little down his arm, discoloring his muscles and outlining his ribs. No doubt it'd be sore when he awoke. 

When Jackson volunteered to stay and stitch him up, Abby going to rest, she almost let him. But they both knew that would never happen, so Jackson didn't argue much when her answer was no. When she was finally left alone, his steps disappearing down the corridor, she let the tears fall. She made no change in expression as the water dropped from her cheeks as she carefully threaded his wounds closed. Sometimes they would fall and mix with the Crimson liquid that dripped down his leg and puddled onto the table. And she didn't care if it would soon puddle onto the floor. She worked for another hour, slowly pulling him back together as if he had shattered into a million pieces. She worked gently, careful to not put to much pressure on his new bruises or dig to deep into his flesh. She treated him as if he were the most fragile thing in the world. As if a single touch were to snap him in half. As she moved up to his shoulder she took a pause, tracing the outline of his bruise with her fingers, his blood running with her hand like paint on a brush, his skin as the canvas. Snapping from her trance, she knew she couldn't linger with her thoughts. She began to thread again, patching each hole until the blood seized to flow. 

Only after his wounds were cleaned and wrapped in bandages did she finally relax, pulling a chair to his side and watching his chest rise and fall gently. She could see the fracture in his right lung, a small dent in his body. Only time would heal the wound, but it pained her to only think of what he would be forced to go through. The pain after every capture of air. The pain after every cough or yawn or sneeze. Just the relaxing of his shoulder could send a signal of pain through him.   
Abby tried to look on the bright side. On how he would constantly complain. She remembered when he broke his leg during training, back when they were friends on the Ark. How he sat day and night in medical after surgery, every word from his mouth nothing but a complaint. 

"It hurts like Hell"  
"When can I leave?"  
"The sun is really pretty, you wouldn't mind if I got up real fast to take a peek?"  
"I think I heard Ma calling me, I should go"   
"There's nothing better than this, just you, me, and the bed I've sat in for three consecutive days in a row"   
"Abby, you've been a great friend to me, why don't you just let me get on out of here?"

She smiled, a small snicker being made at all the memories. Abby hoped when he awoke he would still have the same sense of humor. That he would look into her eyes and crack a joke that would let both of them know that he was ok. She even let herself believe it really was what the future held. Until she caught herself, that is. It was foolish of her to think like so. To pretend everything was going to be ok when she didn't know if it was. He would live, yes. Eventually she knew he would be back on his feet, but his actions were what she feared the most. The new nightmares that would haunt his thoughts, day in and day out. 

After awhile she found herself resting her head lightly on his stomach, careful to stay clear of his wounds. She watched carefully as he slept, and was close to even drifting off herself. However, her eyes opened at the sound of a low hum escaping his throat, his breathing loosing its steady pattern as he tried to take a deep breath, moaning as pressure was added to his contusion. 

As he came to, the pain in his rib almost unbearable, Marcus tried opening his eyes, only to find he could see nothing. Panic over came him, even after when all the memories returned to him. He had forgotten he was unable to see until now. That he could no longer look upon the stars in the sky, or the roaring fire in the night, or the mountain streams flowing down the land. That he could very well never lay eyes upon Abby's face again. It was as if she were dead, his last sight of her a cold corpse in the wooden coffin. 

He could feel her hands caress his face, her fingers brushing over his forming beard over and over again.   
"A-Abby," he stumbled, laying his hand on top of hers. He began to weep, tears streaming from his eyes. His look was wild, terrified, as if he had seen the most gruesome scene you could ever imagine happen right in front of him. It was an expression of horror, one Abby had known all to well since the nights she had burst into his room to the sound of his screams, the night terrors waking him from his sleep. They both suffered from the plagued thoughts, and sought one another for comfort when the fear had toppled over the edge. But this was different. This wasn't a dream, it was real.   
Abby was about to tell him he was alright, that the pain in his rib would pass, that she was sorry about the needles, about the blood and the pain. But there was something different. Something that caught her attention and out all other thoughts on hold. His eyes, they weren't just still in a terrified glare, they were empty, as if his soul had escaped his frame and all that was left was his body, bloodied and falling apart. Although they seemed to be studying her, it was like they were studying a monster. 

"Marcus?" She questioned, her voice catching in her throat. 

"Abby- I-I can't see," he whispered, his voice chalked full of fear and sadness.   
That was when he began to panic. His eyes darting all over the room, searching for something, anything to focus on, yet nothing came into sight, only darkness. He began to shake, his body trembling like there was a blizzard whirling around his naked chest. He'd never been so freaked in his life.   
He could feel both of Abby's soft hands form over his cheeks, cupping his face as she steadied him, a light kiss pecking the top of his head.   
"Marcus," her voice was calm, "it's ok, Marcus. We're going to get through this. I'm right here, it's going to be ok"

He tried to sit up, crying in pain as his rib was shifted. Abby took his head in her arms, stroking his hair and shushing his pain filled coos and moans. She cursed herself for not considering he may be blind when he woke up. It wasn't uncommon for citizens on the ark to be ushered into medical, complaining of blindness after witnessing and staring directly at a solar flare. 

"Abby- I-It doesn't-I don't..." Marcus lay fearful in her arms, trying to speak. He was finally quieted by her soothing voice as it hummed to him a song he hadn't heard in ages. His mother had sung it to him when he was little. But he didn't bother asking where she had heard it, for it was unimportant to him at the time. 

"Marcus, listen to me," she comforted him, her voice almost patronizing, "you're suffering from flash blindness. In extremely rare cases is it permanent. You won't be like this forever"  
Her words echoed through his skull, his heart continuing to pound in his chest.   
"I know you're scared. It's ok, you'll be ok"

Her voice was so smooth, so quiet and relaxing. The thumping in his chest grew lighter, and his breathing more even. He felt himself drift into a stillness, his eyes closing as he opened his mouth, sucking in deep breaths of air. 

"That's it, Marcus," Abby breathed, her eyes scanning over his blood seeped bandages and sweaty chest, which slowly continued to rise and fall steadier and steadier, "just... Just calm down. Try to get some rest, ok? When you wake up, some of your vision may return"

He didn't know if she was lying or not. She couldn't do that to him. Could she? Marcus tried to cast away the thought. He had to believe in something. Had to believe he was going to be ok. He knew he couldn't just sit there in the dark, staring into the void as his wounds bled and rib ached. He had to hold onto what little hope he had left. If not for his own sake, then for Abby's. 

"Marcus," Abby's eyes fell again into his face. 

"Abby," Marcus kept his eyes closed, responding to her with a calm and collected tone. 

"I'm... sorry that I gave you a needle without your knowledge," she paused, guilt overcoming her,"and I'm sorry you weren't informed that your condition wasn't permanent"

Abby became worried when he said not a word, his expression never changing. She looked away towards the door thinking perhaps her presence was not what he needed. That's when she became startled at his sudden response. 

"You did what you had to do, Abby," his voice was deep as it rang through her ears,"I remember the pain, and it was almost unbearable"

She looked towards the glass on the floor, remembering how the anger had boiled over the top. She felt her sense of guilt rise even further.   
"I'm sorry, I-" she stopped, finding her sentence leading to nowhere. 

"it's ok, Abby," Marcus assured her, "now I know that it isn't permanent, I should be ok"

It didn't click In her mind until a few moments after that he wasn't talking about the physical pain. He didn't fear the metal in his flesh or bruise in his lung or blood emerging from his throat. No, he feared the dark. He feared the thought of never seeing Arkadia become what he dreamed it to be. He feared his life being taken from him, yet still forced to feel his body rot away. He feared being left alone with nothing but his imagination, that was already poisoned with the sights of his past. He didn't fear the pain, he feared himself. 

"Oh, Marcus," Abby kissed the top of her head, a hint of a smile painted across her expression as her lips pecked his skin until she pulled away, resting her forehead on his as she closed her eyes, trying to imagine what he saw in her own vision, "I'm glad you're ok," a small tear found its escape down her cheek again. 

Marcus savored the silence they found themselves encased in. He savored the way her breath felt hot against his skin. The way her hair draped down his chest. The way her hand was holding his, even though she'd yet to notice. It was like he was in a dream, floating through a state of bliss, warmth surrounding him as he lay protected, immune to all harm. He almost believed it too. He wanted to believe it. He took it as his way of coping. Thinking that none of it was real, that it was all a bad dream that he would soon awaken from, thrashing violently in his bunk. That the blood coating his body was only sweat. That the men he lost was only the blanket that once kept him warm, now discarded onto the floor. That the chill that continued to flow down his spine was only from the wind that seeped its way through the tin cracks of his room. For a moment, it really did feel like a dream, until a painful cough tore it's way through his throat. He could feel Abby pull back as blood, again, drained from his mouth at every wheeze. He cried in pain, his lung feeling as if it were to pop. 

Abby jumped from her chair and grabbed the remnants of his shirt. Holding it up to his mouth with one hand, her other found its way gripping his shoulder, helping to pull him up, as to protect him from chocking on his own fluids.   
"It's ok, it's ok," she repeated over and over again, her words lingering heavy in the air around them. 

As Marcus sat up his ribs hurt even more, a constant feeling as if he were being stabbed over and over again. His breath was caught in his throat, moving his shirt from his mouth and to his heart, where it stayed, his hand balled into a fist as he gripped it tightly. His eyes were squeezed tightly closed, his mouth open, blood pouring down onto his lap, yet no sound escaped his throat. He bowed his head towards the floor as Abby applied pressure to the bruise, helping to ease the pain.   
She tried not to notice the blood that began again to pool on the cold metal table.   
Marcus moaned one last time, his head falling to the side, finding its rest on the bust of Abby's breasts. She gripped his hair with a firm yet gentle hold, taking his shirt from him, and wiping the blood from his mouth.   
Marcus dug his nails into the skin above his heart once his hand was freed of the bloodied cloth. Sweat had formed over his body as his breathing became more heavy. He felt sick.   
He gasped for air, soft, almost pitiful cries escaping his mouth as he tried to ignore the pain.  
She wrapped her arms around his head, one hand stroking his thick, hair as the other gripped his hand, their hold leaning against his chest. Abby counted each time she felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. They sat together for quite some time, Marcus eventually finding peace in her embrace. 

She hated the thought of having move him, but if another emergency were to happen, or another survivor were to be found, she needed the medical table to be cleared. Taking one last look at his peaceful still, she lightly tugged a strand of his hair, making him hum as to let her know she had his attention.   
Whispered quietly to him, she didn't want to disrupt the peaceful quietness even further, "I think we should move you to a cot, I think I might be a little more comfortable"

He sighed, knowing she was right.   
"Ok," was all he uttered.   
Marcus wasn't a fool, and he knew good and well it wouldn't be an easy task, even if the destination was only a few feet to his right. He knew his thigh and shoulder would burn and rib burst. But, there was nothing he could do, and if something were to happen, someone would be needing to table more than he did. 

As Abby pulled from his grasp, her hand still holding his, he moaned out of discontent. She ignored his complaint, tucking her free hand in between his strong arm and good rib, the blood that dripped down his limb making a firm grip nearly impossible.   
"On three," Abby held on a little tighter, waiting until Marcus had shifted his body and swung his legs off the table until his feet lay firmly on the floor.   
She began the countdown, "one, two three"

With a quick jolt, Marcus rose from the table, trying to stand straight, only to find himself bending over in pain. Abby worked on holding him up, careful to not let him fall to the ground. Once the pain subsided, he straightened part way out again, one hand gripping hers as the other clutched the dent in his flesh.   
"A few steps, you can do it," Abby added, trying to add support. He was great full of her encouragement. Shuffling his feet across the floor, he grit his teeth against the nagging soreness of his body, surprised his thigh did not hurt as much as it did, nor his shoulder. It felt like years until he was forced to stop, Abby helping direct him towards his destination.   
"Turn around," she helped him, twisting his body until it was safe for him to sit. 

He finally let loose the breath he didn't know he held as he sat down on the cold surface, moving so his legs lay outstretched In front of him, refusing to let go of her fingers.   
"Stay with me?" Marcus asked, almost pleaded. 

Abby didn't wait a second. Instead she sat down immediate at his side, helping shift him over to make room for her own body. Laying down together, she rested her head in the crook of his neck, her arm around her waist as their hands continued to hang on. She felt warm, happy, content, just by sitting at his side. Not another word was spoken, only the peaceful silence that flowed through the room. Staring towards the ceiling, Abby thought sleep would be impossible, that her eyes would refuse rest. But, as she focused on the rise and fall of the chest next to hers, the warm embrace she felt through her fingers, the know that everything was going to be ok, she found sleep consuming her, taking them both away from the nightmare they had lived.

§₩§

The morning felt strange to her, like something wasn't quite right. Where was she? Who was sleeping soundly at her side? Why was there glass on the floor, blood still dripping from the surgical table? It took Abby only a few seconds to have every single memory of the night before rushing back to her. To the sound of the Rover speeding into camp, the shouting, the screaming, the worried stares and pounding feet through the mud. She remembered the anger that swept through her, the guilt, the weakness that almost cost her everything. She remembered his pleads for help, the blood on his skin, the panic he experienced when he thought darkness was his permanent destination. She tried to rip the thoughts from her head and burn them to embers. It was a rude awakening, despite it being the bitter truth. 

She found herself staring towards the ceiling above her. Counting the support pillars as she felt Marcus's fingers between her own. It was a peaceful feeling really, like she were in the forest, laying on the rain soaked floor, staring into the sky. His hand was the earth, her fingers digging deep into the dirt. His breath was the wind, soft and even, flowing through the trees and high grass. The feeling of his body, the sun, it's rays warming her body, bringing comfort to her core. She dreaded the thought of such a feeling ever slipping from her grasp. She tried not to focus on the end then, only the beginning. 

She remained still and peaceful for quiet some time, her mind wandering to all sorts of strange thoughts. She had once thought she would be pondering over such things for quite some time, which was why she was surprised when she felt the body next to hers begins to stir. He moaned quietly, still trying to catch his bearings as he awoke from his slumber.   
Abby turned her head, watching as his mouth opened in a tired yawn. After a few moments of a still expression, she gave up, and looked towards the roof again. He knew he was still tired, and wasn't surprised he'd gone back to sleep. 

For a few moments she even closed her eyes herself, wondering if she could could fall back into her dreams. It worked for awhile, her mind slowly clearing and her body feeling weightless against the cot. But she couldn't help but look to her side when she felt a stare piercing her skull. That was when she saw how he looked to her, his eyes shimmering like the stars, yet his face solemn and motionless, free of expression like it were in dire focus. 

"Marcus? What's wrong?" Abby asked, fear in her gut. 

That's when he let loose his small smile, one corner of his lips smirking towards the ceiling, his eyes never leaving that of hers.   
"I feared I would never see you again"

**Author's Note:**

> Love you, T


End file.
